years may pass before we realize
the true depth of a kinship
fast friends make faster enemies
people pass each other
every day
never seeing each other perfect matches
perfect strangers
and it’s out of their control
fortune twists into contentment with
close acquaintances
compromises ‘tween people who don’t
do certain things in certain ways on certain days
cuddle in with
just enough
of not alone
to make it through the weekend
but while fortune isn’t looking…
the lucky make time for tales
room for comfort
moves for bail
the lucky provide food for thought
leave space for failure
when time is taut
the lucky take one for the team
two over the limit
and bring back two for the dream
the lucky seek solace in few
and wear weakness only
where luck will soothe
the lucky are a loyal crew
for luck be such, in turn
One-Way
Don’t heed stop signs or lights
Might pass the Devil, mid-flight
Two or three times a week
From the bend to the bight
Not an angel in sight
On this forsaken one-way street
‘Neath the cover of night
Is enchantment and sleight
As the pavement pulls your feet
Though the faces invite
The air is contrite
Don’t trust a soul you might meet
Us Folk
Be we yet in chains, or not –
fools for freedom, bound by ought
slaves to substances and sot
and perpetually wrought?
Be our liberty for naught
fools for freedom, bound by ought
slaves to substances and sot
and perpetually wrought?
Be we better for the gain –
equaled by forgotten names
pimping pride for an acclaim
pacified to skirt disdain?
Be we still, in every way –
still at spirit, will at bay
blinded by that brighter day
ever yearning for allay?
Be we beasts of burden yet –
tilling, towing deep regret
bearing wherewithal to let
tangled up in epithets
Be we black, and only so –
never from a hue to grow
placated by false bellow
call us equal to send us fro?
…the skin it holds us in
unless it holds us out…
Be we yet in our own chains –
insecurity a blain
gives our weakness new ordain
enacts complacency on pain?
Be we trapped, lest we forget –
salvation lies in due layette
can destination be reset
if not our own, then for the next?
…the youth are the reparation
let them be paid in full…
Be we better for the aim –
for the cull, no more the same
opt for rigor, spite the flame
arrive at where we overcame?
Better for the sacrifice –
For helping my sister rise
For defining freedom’s price
As something we can all suffice?
Yes
yes we be
if we don’t let
ourselves
disregard
ignore
medicate
our struggle away
Yes
We be
Youth
with its tender feet
steps lightly through
the brush of life
leaving sweet-smelling imprints
on the surface
of the souls
it touches
sweet-smelling
and soft enough
for you to miss its passing
completely
then
its memory fades
as quickly
as the time it takes
to change you
from what you are
to what you will be
fear not, though
it has not gone
as long as you allow it
to live around you
free of bitterness
or resentment
remember
that it is tender
Inter Diabolus
You speak to me
In riddles and rhymes
I follow every turn
You lay me down
Between the lines
My body starts to burn
I know your face
I’ve seen your truth
Still I do not flee
You spin a phrase
To steal my youth
And bind what’s left of me
I pray to what
I know is true
For wisdom that will stand
To reveal what
I thought I knew
Like footprints in the sand
The way is long
But love is longer
Hell is deeper than the sea
Your tongue is sharp
But I am stronger
And I will remain free.
Brown Girl
I promise you
Don’t have to be
Anything but
True
Brown girl
They will never
Understand your hair
Do what you want with it
Your skin
Don’t have to be
A burden
Please believe
Brown girl
Keep a place
In your heart
For yourself
Your strength
Don’t have to be
Your definition
But a caveat
Brown girl
So many things
Are at your feet
Choose wisely
Brown girl
Blackstory
Black Mystory
Is a comedy
Full of life and laughter
With happy endings
And bright beginnings
To last me ever after
Black Yourstory
Is a drama
Riddled with emotion
Full of heartstring tugs
Of screams and shrugs
And promises devotion
Black Ourstory
Is a horror
A tale of pain and tears
How they beat us down
Tried to steal our crown
And bury us in our fears
Black Herstory
Is an epic tale
Of triumph and devastation
How the dreams of one
And the needs of many
Sparked a great migration
Black History
It’s no mystery
We’ve seen all this before
Through our darkest days
Our hope still stays
And we live to see once more.
Syncopation
Who I was before
The strongest pull in the room
The hardest beat in the line
Heavy
Having you in my life
Offsets the rhythm of my heart
Staggers the beat in my chest
I murmur
The people around me
They say I’ve changed so much
And they’re learning to tolerate you
In stead
Like the sand on the shore
The tides of your charms rise and fall
Each time taking a bit of me
Further out to sea
I have to applaud
The sneaky way you stole my power
But I don’t have the strength
To say a word
The Newness of You
I love the freshness
The tap, pop, fizz
That is
The newness of you
When close together
My body pitter-pats
I react to
The newness of you
I love the learning
The yearning for more
The core of
The newness of you
When I see you smile
Inside, I rise like yeast
A beast it’s
The newness of you
I’ll miss the presence
Once I know who you are
By far of
The newness of you
That is, I react to the core of the beast that is the newness of you
Jack
This is the house that Jack built.
This is the girl that lives in the house that Jack built.
This is the heart that lay in the girl that lives in the house that Jack built.
This is the man that broke the heart that lay in the girl that lives in the house that Jack built.
His name is Jack.
Them damn Jacks, always startin’ trouble. It really is about time for him to hit the road.
Because that girl that was layin’ up in that house, well, her name was Jill.
And she’s sick of runnin’ up and down hills with him and his love.
What he need with all that water anyway?
And she laughed – hard – when he fell. He deserved it.
And he wasn’t nimble and he wasn’t quick, ’cause when she caught him cheatin’ on her, she she beat him in the head with that candlestick.
Then he was jumpin’.
And Old Dame Dob wouldn’t patch his nod ’cause he’d pissed her off too.
Yeah Jack, get your bags packed – go ahead and hit the road.
Yeah, she’s keepin’ yo’ house, but you gotta go.
Hey, Sprat, you might not be big on fat, but she can’t eat no more of your crap.
Take your clubs, your spades, and your cold heart, too.
But she’s keepin’ the diamonds.
spirit@peace&joy@hand 